


Alcohol, Brothers and Christmas Traditions

by Ryuutchi



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Outsiders (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Humor, Banter, Frank Capra, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/pseuds/Ryuutchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not how Owen intended to spend his Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alcohol, Brothers and Christmas Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badninja](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=badninja).



> Technically set after Blackest Night.  
> Thanks to Comixologist for the beta.

The stockings were hung, the lights were strung, the bells were jingling, and Owen was drinking. A lot.

After the things Owen'd done during the whole black ring saga, Owen wasn't sure _he_ wanted to spend time with himself, so he wasn't entirely sure why he was at the annual Teen Titans Christmas Party, or whatever this was supposed to be. He'd been hoping to send his adoptive mother a card, find the nearest open bar, and drink himself into complete oblivion. Maybe give himself cirrhosis while he was at it. He still wasn't sure how he'd come back after all of that black ring shit, but being conscious was not the best of his options.  


* * *

  
Instead, at 9 pm on December 24th, he'd stepped out the door of the apartment he'd rented shortly after coming quietly back to life in a ditch, and come face to face (or, rather, chest to face) with Robin, maskless but for wrap-around shades, who had then grabbed his wrist and dragged him into an unmarked grey minivan. Owen didn't protest, first because it would have done no good-- if Robin wanted to dissect him, or hand him over to Waller or whatever, he could do it regardless of what Owen said-- and second because Owen wasn't certain that whatever hideous punishment Robin had in store for him was any worse than what Owen was already putting himself through.

"Hi, I'm Bart." Then again.

Owen couldn't figure out what Robin was thinking behind those sunglasses, but he seemed more content than the last time Owen had seen him. Something warmed in Owen's belly at the thought that the kid was doing better, even though the pleasure was clearly at Owen's expense. Bart was driving and, while _Robin_ was okay with nearly lodging his spleen in his sternum every time they hit a minor speed bump, Owen wasn't. It was only at about the third time that Bart had hit 150 on a city street without anything more than reproving laughter from Robin that Owen realized that Robin wasn't planning to vivisect him at the end of the trip. Probably.

By the time that Bart screeched to a halt from somewhere around 200 mph (and where had Robin gotten a mini-van, of all things, that could go 200 mph?) Owen had nearly thrown up twice, and finally just unhooked his seatbelt and lay down. If he died from a crash, it couldn't be worse than anything else that had happened to him and, anyway, lying down calmed his stomach. He tumbled of the seat, knocking his head against the back of Robin's seat. A headache began to throb behind his right eye from the jolt, but Robin's 'oof!" made him feel a little bit vindicated.

The party he was promptly dragged into looked like the annual convention for the "Zombie League of America" or something-- Superboy greeted Robin by swinging him around, to much laughter and Robin's protests. The blonde Batgirl tossed her arms around Robin's shoulders and dragged him under some mistletoe. About that time Owen decided he had somewhere else to be: the open bar.  


* * *

  
"Hey, bro," said a voice over his shoulder. Owen looked up from his third glass of bourbon. Impulse-- Flash-- Bart-- stood, leaning against the wall, watching him. "You should join the party! We're about to start playing Pictionary. I ROCK at Pictionary!" Bart spread his hands and waved carelessly at the people starting to knot up around a couple of couches. Owen's eyes glanced over the crowd, picking out familiar faces (Dick, Kara, oh _god_ ) and he knocked down the rest of the glass.

"I'm not much of a party guy," Owen said. He turned to pour himself another glass, ignoring the way his hands were starting to shake. It was a lie. He liked crowds. He liked parties. He liked people. He just didn't want to be _here_.

A hand much too strong for its skinny fingers wrapped around Owen's wrist, stopping him mid-pour. "That's not what I heard. Not too many guys can get Rob to loosen up, you know. It takes a special talent. And people who are that good with Bat-people are good with all people. I'll bet you're awesome with the non-cape crowd."

"Let go of me," Owen said, fighting to keep his voice level. The last thing he wanted was to attract the attention of the other party-goers. "I'm an ex-villainous ex-hero who just got shanghaied to the annual spandex-clad superhero Christmas Eve party. A party that is full of people who didn't like me when I was working with them and probably like me even less now. I don't want to be here and everyone but Robin and, apparently, you don't want me here. So no, I don't want to play Pictionary, or mingle. I'd much rather get extremely drunk and forget that I'm even here at all!" Owen's voice rose sharply, and the conversation in their vicinity dropped by a decibel or two, as though waiting for a fight to break out. Owen forced himself to quiet, and tugged his wrist from Bart's grip. "I don't know why you're even trying."

Bart's smile was wry. "I already explained it, didn't I?" Owen frowned at him and took a swallow from his half-empty glass. "Rob said you're my brother. He hacked the files, so he's probably right. And so I figured you deserved another chance-- at least to hang out for a while. You know, some of these guys are a little crazy but family always makes you mad. They're my family and," he cleared his throat, looking down at his feet, "so're you." He shrugged. "Some of the guys here said otherwise - at length and pretty loud. But Rob and I argued them down."

Owen looked up at Bart, trying to decide if the candid words could be trusted, and met the boy's wide, honest gaze full on. He felt his breath catch; he'd never seen anyone look at him with such unwavering trust before. He shook himself out of it, staring at his glass instead. "I don't have any family left." His dad was dead, his adoptive family didn't give two shits about him... who was this kid to suddenly show up and intrude on Owen's solitude?

"You're my mom's other kid," Bart said, and in a blink of Owen's eye had his arm thrown around Owen's shoulder. "That makes you my brother. And means you should totally play Pictionary with me." His smile was just enough to make Owen crack slightly.

"Screw Pictionary," Robin said from Owen's other side, sliding the glass of alcohol away from Owen's hand.

"I didn't think you were into that sort of thing," Owen said, vague amusement bubbling up despite himself.

"You're a complete pervert," Robin said. "We're getting out of here and going to watch 'It's a Wonderful Life'. These idiots are giving me a headache."

Owen smiled, the first one in what felt like a long time. Last year they'd both gone to the theater for their own yearly tradition and accidentally bumped into each other. They had spent the rest of the night throwing popcorn at the screen and enjoying each other's company. "Doesn't matter what's going on, come hell or high water, you're going to see that movie, aren't you?"

Robin arched an eyebrow. "You were planning on missing it this year?"

Owen glanced at the glass of alcohol and shrugged up a shoulder. "The thought might've crossed my mind."

"Well, too bad. We're going to the Downtown 14."

"I... can I come?" asked Bart, looking hopeful and puppyish.

"Only as long as you promise to let Robin drive," said Owen.

"Oh. Okay. But Rob drives worse than me."

And, much to Owen's shock, Robin _did_.  


* * *

  
The movie was interrupted by a supervillain attack twenty minutes in, but Owen had more fun than he'd had in the past six months combined, so he didn't even mind.


End file.
